Street rat
by Ephy
Summary: Before being Robin, Jason was a street rat. And he did what he had to do to survive. That doesn't make him any less able to take care of himself - or to take care of others. Series of oneshots in the same universe.
1. Of first and last times (or at least fir

**Of first and last times (or at least firsts)**

The first time Jason sucked a cock, he was 12.

Now, don't make a face. He survived. It's all what mattered then, it's all what matters now, though it somehow tastes like irony to say that.

Anyway.

Two dudes found the place Jason had come to call home. It was a squat apparently closed by a big metallic door. It had taken Jason the best of a day to unbolt it.

Then one day, he got home, and here they were. Being 12 and all he made a stupid mistake and snapped. There were only two of them and Jason was tough, and quick, and most adults didn't expect a street rat to break an arm.

But one of them had a gun, and when he took it out and pointed it at Jason, the only sensible thing to do was to freeze. So Jason did. But he still had to open his big mouth and they decided to put it to good use.

Now that he thinks about it, the guy mustn't have been more than 16. He told him to get down on his knees, and made him lick the gun first.

Jason hated every second of it but he actually had been lucky. They didn't fuck anything _else_ than his mouth, and they let him flee afterwards. Some gangs choose themselves a bitch and keep it until it breaks.

Jason didn't intend to be anybody's bitch.

He put a blade between the shoulders of that guy the very next day. One doesn't survive in Gotham's streets for long if one can't defend himself – and let people know about it.

Chapter closed.

The second time, it was winter. Jason was 13 and pretended to be 15 on a daily basis.

He'd manage to find another place for himself, a roof with a breach just big enough for his childish body to slip in. No adult could hurt him _there_.

But winter was much worse than any adult. Getting bitten by the cold had never seemed so literal. Jason wished he could bite back – to get something in his stomach if nothing else. He was cold, and hungry, and while usually he sneaked into empty flats to take quick showers and steal clothes and food, flats were less often empty with the cold keeping people inside.

He'd almost been arrested _twice_ over the last week and had managed to get away the second time only because one of the girls had _accidentally_ bounced on the cop. In return, he'd kicked the hell out of the next guy who was being too rough on her. She'd thank him with a smile on her broken lips.

Jason liked the girls, which often gave him some pieces of their own meal if he'd stand guard at the end of the street to warn them if a cop was coming. They called him "Jay" or "kitten" and didn't mind if he wanted to warm his hands.

But the cold was still too cold, the hunger too strong.

And hell, he wasn't anybody's bitch if _he_ was the one choosing.

So he offered to some john and got on his knees for a few bucks. Not enough. Never enough. But, well, priorities.

He doesn't remember very well the third, or fourth, or fifth time. By the tenth, he stopped counting. It was that bad a winter.

Then, he found the Batmobile – and Batman found him.

He offered to Bruce.

Bruce never let him.


	2. A brighter future

**A brighter future**

For once, it is Christmas in Gotham city. The fact that it is February doesn't matter; it is still snowing so that counts. Not that Jim cares; he is happy. The Todd kid has just been adopted by Bruce Wayne, which means two lost boys just found themselves a family.

sosososo

The first time Jim met Jason, the kid had been arrested for thievery. He was 11 and had been in the streets for little less than a year. Jim had seen him ask to the fellow officer who had arrested him if he could use the bathroom.

Jim had to suppress a smile when the rookie who'd agree to let him go found out that the kid was still small enough to slip out of the bathroom window.

sosososo

The second time, Jason was 12, pretending to be 14, and a little hardass who'd manage to provoke one of the cops into punching him. A bruise was flowering on his cheek. Yeah. Back then, that was still the good old GCPD ways.

The arresting officer put him into an interrogation room and left for 5 minutes to get himself a coffee. After all, the only way out was a room full of cops and the door was closed. He wasn't a rookie: it was at the 10th floor.

When he came back, the room was empty. They all scattered down the building, afraid to find the kid's corpse on the ground.

They only understood later. Jason hadn't jumped. He had _climbed_ to the roof, waited for the building to be clear then left quietly by the stairs.

sosososo

The third and last time, Jim doesn't like to remember, because "Jay" was then 13 and had been arrested for prostitution. They didn't know what to do with him: he wouldn't talk, except to propose to cops and make smartass comments on their sexual lives.

Jim just hoped none of them had actually accepted.

When the room was found empty, _again_, they'd search the building both up and down. Jim let them, staying at his desk and just waiting for the kid to get out. Jay did: he had still been in the interrogation room, carefully hidden.

Jay froze when he spotted him. Then walked to him with languid movements, smiled, and asked: "Mind if I get one of those cigarettes?"

"Suit yourself."

The kid smirked, took one and lit it. He obviously had smoked before because he didn't even cough once.

"They'll continue to run around for a few minutes", Jim said, "but they'll come back eventually."

"Right, I should go."

Jay started to walk away, then Jim added, casually: "There's a quiet dinner at the cross of Fisher and Rost. I know for a fact that they do the best roast beef in the city, for an affordable price."

The kid gave no sign to have heard him. He just resumed walking and got the hell out of the GCPD building.

But next time Jim went to Billies', he paid for two plates while eating only one.

sosososo

Now, all this is done though, and Jim is glad. The kid had now a home; a place where he'll be safe.

Finally, Jim can stop worrying about finding Jason's beaten body in an alley.


	3. Smirk

**Smirk**

Jim doesn't know Batman's identity. He can truthfully swear he has no evidence whatsoever on the matter.

If he is honest with himself – and, really, about this, he can't be with anyone else – he doesn't want to know. And, sometimes, it becomes quite difficult to keep it that way.

The man himself gives nothing away. At first, Jim thought prisons had more smiling doors. It took time for Batman to relax enough to let go a bit. Nowadays, Jim considers him a friend, though a secretive one.

But the kids…

It had been hard enough to ignore the familiarity of the first Robin's mobile face. It's not like he regularly spent his Saturday evening with Babs in one way or another.

At some point, Robin disappeared. Coincidentally, Dick Grayson moved out of Gotham.

Right.

But still, it was just a gut feeling, nothing concrete, nothing certain.

Then a new Robin appeared. Jim will always remember that night when Batman dropped with him on the roof where Jim was smoking.

"Jim."

"Hi, big guy."

He is able to call him Batman with a straight face in public but, seriously. No way he'll do the same in private.

"Hello, commish' Gordon", the new kid greeted him.

Everything in his voice and accent sounded like Gotham's streets. For a split of second, Jim didn't know why – then the kid smirked and he almost swallowed his cigarette. He would have recognized that smirk anywhere.

"Something wrong?"

Concern was barely audible in Batman's voice, but it was there nonetheless. Jim could only clear his throat, nod, and explain their latest lost case against the Maroni's.


	4. Waste

**Waste**

Dick never enjoyed the evenings spent publicly as Bruce Wayne's ward in some high society event. Though he was quite the socialite, he complained at great length about how boring they were.

Bruce kind of expected it would be the same for Jason.

Even more so: he thought Jason would be at least a bit impressed, or embarrassed. The kid did come from the streets after all and neither his speech nor his manners corresponded to the place's standards.

He should probably have known better.

It's not that Jason didn't swear; but he did it with that quality of voice that made people laugh around him. He flattered the women, charmed their daughters, and listened to the men as if he grasped what they were talking about.

Had he tried, he would have been able to, but Bruce could see his eyes slightly unfocused, looking around the room. Not for the first time since they arrived, he wondered what Jason was thinking about.

Then, suddenly, Jason looked at the man who was talking to him and smirked. Bruce felt his muscles tense, ready to go and stop the kid before he hurt someone. But Jason didn't. Instead, he leaned over the man to whisper something in his ear – and to do so more closely, put his hand on the man's lap.

Horror climbed out of Bruce's gut to grab his throat. Jason's hand didn't move when he sat back in his chair and, after a few seconds, the man started smiling.

Bruce never remembered exactly what excuse he served to the people surrounding him. He just knows he crossed the room in straight line to Jason and put a – possessive – hand on his shoulder. Then smiled.

He's almost sure he didn't say anything threatening to the man. Who backed off in a split of second anyway.

Jason raised his eyebrows at him.

"Well?"

"I think we're going home."

"Fucking finally!"

So he hadn't enjoyed the evening, in the end.

They didn't talk at all during their ride to the manor. Jason hummed some tune heard earlier at the radio. Bruce found himself strumming his fingers on the door's handle.

He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to _think_. His brain was spinning in all directions, from "what the hell was Jason thinking" to "I'm going to _break_ that man".

The car stopped and they got out, climbed the stairs to the manor's main door. In the hall, Alfred took their coats and Jason undid his tie with a satisfied sigh.

_Why did you do that_, Bruce thought.

Jason smirked at him, as if he said that out loud. His Robins always seemed to know what he wasn't saying.

"I kind of hoped you'd beat him into a pulp, but, hell, had he followed me, I could have done it myself, couldn't I?"

Bruce would have tensed if his muscles weren't rock-solid already. He put a Batman-level of warning in his stare. Jason only laughed.

"What? That place was just money and decadence. It fucking stank of it. I ain't nothing to do in there, 'xcept perhaps suck some johns, or freaking _bite_ them."

Bruce was taken aback by the rage contained in his words. It must have showed, because Jason laughed again – and this time, it didn't sound joyful at all.

"Jesus, you don't get it. I should have known. Of course you wouldn't. You were raised as one of them. Don't worry, I know you're kinda different. You try, for God's sake, you _act_. But there's still some of that pretty billionaire in there, mh?"

Jason – Jay – walked towards him, smirking, aggressiveness written all over his body. Instead of punching, he put a hand on Bruce's chest, then let it slide, slowly, to his waist.

"Perhaps you want a piece of me yourself? I already offered. I was serious, y'know? It's not that I wouldn't mind. I would actually _enjoy_ feeling those big, strong hands on me, God, it would be _fabulous_."

"Not today", Bruce answered, forcing himself to smile knowingly. "I already told you: we'll see about that when you hit 18."

"Aw, really? Come on, Bruce… Wouldn't you like to feel my mouth around your cock?"

"That lovely mouth of yours, however tempting, is still very much too young for my tastes."

Jason laughed and backed off. Bruce felt like crawling out of his own skin.

He hoped someday the kid would have relaxed enough with him that he could tell him that was a lie. He'd never touch him, never. But Jason was so much expecting him to do it that telling him otherwise would sound like a lie in the kid's ears. The truth, the fact that he was truly safe at the manor, Jason couldn't accept just yet.

Someday, he would.

And then, it clicked in Bruce's head.

Jason had been expecting the same from the men of the reception. He expected it so much he preferred taking the lead, so at least it would feel like he chose it himself.

Sometimes, Bruce really felt like punching whoever made Jason kneel the first time.

"I would have", he said to the kid at last. "Beaten him into pulp."

Jason's smirk finally disappeared from his lips, just a second, before coming back. But it wasn't as defensive as before – because that's what it was, that attitude. It was all about hiding he was scared, about hiding any weakness at all. About biting before being bitten.

Bruce put his hand back on Jason's shoulder. The kid trusted him enough to relax at the touch. He took the opportunity to push a bit further.

"What happened in there?" he asked.

Jason tensed again, then sighed.

"You really don't see it."

It was merely an observation.

"Help me see it."

Jason looked at him. He wasn't smirking anymore, all provocation gone. He looked tired, like a 14 year old kid should never be.

"Do you know what that whole room was worth?" he finally asked. "I mean, not the people, but… the furniture. The clothes. The fucking curtains. If I had had one fucking earring of one of those fucking old bitches six months ago, I would have been able to pay for Wendy's medicine. Give me a second pair and I would have given both Terry _and_ Gillian some new coats. And _all of us_. Hell, I could have bought a _flat_. The food no one was eating, what will it become, afterwards? If they fucking throw it out I'm going to fucking _kill_ someone."

Bruce looked back at Jason, at that kid who thought it would be a good idea to steal the Batmobile's tires. Perhaps he didn't do it for the money or the fun of it. Perhaps he tried it out of spite, for the vigilante who pretended to help the city without helping _him_.

Anyone else looking at him with such obvious despair painted on his face, Bruce would have kissed. He didn't have words for comfort. His body talked much more clearly than his mouth. But Jason he couldn't kiss, so he just – put his arms around him, like that – and hugged.

For once, Jason let him.


	5. Instead, he left

_Before starting, I'd like to answer to an anonymous review sent to me earlier today. I was asked if "the entire story will not be centered around Jason's sexploits with various older men"._

_So, first of all, I entirely understand your frustration about not finding a lot of Jason-centric fanfiction. I myself like him a LOT (though I started reading comics after his first come back and met Jason as Red Hood), so I know exactly how frustrating this is for you._

_However, I'd like to point out the fact that your criticism of canon has little to do with my own writings…_

_About your question (and, I think, the reason why you reviewed in the first place), I'm afraid the whole point of "Street rat" is about how it would have changed things, how Jason would be, if he had had to prostitute himself._

_However, I don't think the whole fanfiction is about sexploits! On the contrary, I'm not giving any details and this isn't about Jason getting f*cked but about who he _became_ because of that. I take the opportunity to point out to other readers that if you want to read slash about Jason and anyone, this isn't the right place to be. No, Jason and Bruce won't end up together here! (Not that I don't like Bruce/Jason but it would just be creepy in this fic) (not that I don't like creepy but I don't intend to write creepy in this fic)_

_So, what you won't find in Street rat: loads of sex scenes, Jason in relationship with someone, a constructed story, Jason based on before-coming-back Jason_

_What you will find in Street rat: a darkish-but-yet-full-or-himself Jason, the point of view of various characters on Jason (so far: Jim, Bruce, Jason himself, and soon to come Dick, Barbara, Tim, maybe someday Kal)._

_On that note, here's the new chapter, and it's all about Dick._

**Instead, he left**

The first time he saw him, Dick thought it was a bad joke. Then he saw Bruce's face – Batman's face – as serious as ever, and knew it wasn't.

He'd been replaced.

They were at the JLA for a debrief. Dick was present as the Teen Titans representative since the action had been combined – nothing quite as dramatic as a crisis, but no minor business either.

Still.

Had the kid been part of it? There'd been so much to do, Dick hadn't noticed him if he had. But now, here he was, pixie boots and all, smirking at him. Dick pursed his lips and tried not to glare at Bruce – at Batman.

"Who is this?"

Batman glanced at the kid, as surprised to find him at his side.

"It's Robin", he answered.

"He is not. I would know."

Batman blinked. Again with the surprise. Then he just _looked_ at Dick, for answers.

For fuck's sake. He didn't get it, did he? Well, if he didn't, Dick wasn't going to explain.

Instead, he left.

sosososo

He didn't see the boy for a while. They both scarcely went to the JLA and Dick sure wasn't going to Gotham. He heard about him though. Papers talking about Bruce Wayne newly adopted son. JLA members complaining about his temper and asking Dick if he really didn't want his old job back, half-joking.

(Afterwards, Dick would wonder if Jason had heard. Wonder how many people told him they liked the first Robin better.)

At the time, though, Dick didn't mind. On the contrary. He was so angry at Bruce for replacing him – for giving his mother name for him to another kid, for Christ's sake!

So, any mean remark about it made him viciously satisfied.

sosososo

They crossed path again in New York. Dick had heard Bruce was in town but the hell if he was going to run away because of him. He'd pointedly arrived at Titan Tower at 8PM on Friday, intending to spend the whole week-end.

Of course, they had to run into each other.

(Later, he'd wonder if Jason had been looking for him. He probably had.)

"Hello Nightwing. It's kinda quiet over here."

Something, in the turn of the phrase, the kid's smirk or his thick Gotham accent, icked Dick. Or it was just the whole goddamn situation.

"It's just as busy as any other town."

The kid lost his smile.

"Damn you, man. I know you despise me but can't you just tell me to fuck off instead of biting my head off over a fucking _hello_?"

Dick blinked. Well, that was direct for sure.

"I don't despise you" he started.

"Yeah, right. You just happen to bite on a lemon whenever you see me. And here I heard so many things about your smile."

"About my smile?"

"About your ass too, don't you worry, pretty boy."

Dick gaped. Who _was_ that kid?

"Not liking what you see? I ain't surprised. I ain't cut for all the joyful laugh and bright colors but hell, someone had to fill the gap."

"_Excuse me_?"

The kid started to look annoyed.

"Are you dumb or what?"

Anger came bubbling back in Dick's throat.

"You come here in my town, in my clothes, asking me questions and now you're calling me _dumb_? I didn't despise you but this is me reconsidering!"

The kid snorted.

"Awake at last. Well, birdie boy, let me tell you, either this ain't your town or those ain't your clothes. Besides, I didn't saw you flying around in anything but blacks and blues lately."

Dick gritted his teeth.

"What do you want?"

The kid gauged him. Then shook his head.

"Nothing."

"What, you travelled all those miles and now you're pussing out?"

The kid straightened, as stroke by thunder.

"I ain't! But why should I talk if you won't listen?"

"I'm listening."

The kid looked at him again and nodded slowly.

"Alright. I stole your stuff the first time. He wouldn't let me but you did leave a gap, when you left."

_He_ being Bruce, of course.

"He can take care of himself, as he told me quite loudly."

Ouch, that sounded whiny. Dick hadn't meant to.

"Not with _him_!" The kid was back to exasperation. "To _Gotham_! Do you know how many street kids looked up to you? Batman means protection, someone looking after you, or after _someone_, from the dark. You… You were _hope_. Hope there was somethin' _else_ than the dark!"

He started moving around, arm spread.

"When you disappeared from the roofs, I had to make up stories about how you were busy on some case in the Himalaya or elsewhere. Then I invented you'd retired in some happy place. But the kids, they ain't no idiots."

He stopped, facing Dick.

"We thought Robin was _dead_."

That stroke Dick like a punch. And something else, too.

The kid actually had a good reason for being Robin.

Dick himself had started just to _help people_. At 12, he didn't thought any further. At 14, he also did it for _Bruce_, for Batman, because Robin kept him – not entirely in the light, but out of the darkness.

Now, well, it was his life. He couldn't do anything _else_ but to continue. Stopping wasn't part of the plan, not ever.

But that kid…

He was being Robin for _Gotham_.

That was precisely as fucked up as Bruce and, somehow, that made it right.

Dick came back into current times and looked at the kid. Jason Todd, he remembered from the _Inquisitor_. He was 13 and Bruce found him in the streets. In Gotham's streets.

Did _Bruce_ find him, or did _Batman_? Dick wondered for the first time.

"Earth to birdie boy?"

"Are you in New York for a case?"

Jason pulled a face.

"No, the Big Guy has true-life business in town. 'said I had to _come and watch and learn and shut up_, end of the quote."

Bruce probably didn't put it that way, but that was certainly close enough.

"So you have a free evening. Do you want me to show you around?"

Jason blinked. Dick grinned at him.

"Well, Robin? You coming or not?"

The kid didn't quite blush but his smile still was much softer than his previous smirk.

"'Course I am!"

sosososo

They never became friends, Jason was way too harsh. He often annoyed Dick and Nightwing couldn't help but wince each time the kid punched a thug. Each time the bones cracked.

But they had a working relationship and sometimes, Robin would even grin at him.

sosososo

Later, Dick wondered how it would have ended, had he try harder to be his brother.


	6. Out of the kids' sight

_Ok so now is the moment when people start screaming at me. But, seriously, don't you think this could have happen in a place like _Gotham_?_

**Out of the kids' sight**

Jason never told Bruce about how he met Batgirl. It was half a year before he took him in so it was none of his business. Nor anyone's.

Jason had been smoking out the skylight of his squat. The few kids he'd taken in for the night were asleep.

He had the habit to let the youngest street rats sleep under his roof and maybe to give them some spare food whenever he came across any. Or, you know, when he wasn't hungry. The oldest of the kids was eleven biologically – and about forty in both cynicism and desperation.

Jason didn't want any of them making the same choices he'd have to make.

Anyway.

It was a cold, rainy night at the very end of fall. He hadn't seen the sun in what felt like forever. However, the rain seemed to stop for a few minutes and he couldn't sleep so – smoking.

He'd started at, like, nine, even before his mother died. He'd steal her cigarettes when she was too high to either notice or care – which was about all the time after his father had been locked up. And it hadn't become any better after he died.

The smoke still tasted like her smiles.

However, he didn't want the kids to see him and pick up the habit – it was a waste of good money. So, he left them downstairs and went up to the cellar where he stocked his things.

Even if one of them was awake, they knew better than to follow him. He'd made up that story about how he'd left that kid, Perry, naked in the docks waters during a winter night because he'd been so bold. (The truth was, Perry had put himself into troubles with a real player and Jason had dragged him on a bus, out of Gotham.)

_The point is_ he was smoking, alone, looking at the rooftops at night, half-hoping he'd glimpse the Batman's shadow.

Then something moved. A shape struggled to climb onto the roof. It was caped but too frail to be the Batman, yet too tall to be Robin (who hadn't been spotted in weeks anyway). Jay understood he'd been half lucky.

Batgirl staggered between the chimneys. Knowing drama was requested, the full moon chose that precise moment to get out of the clouds and show the mess of the girl's costume. It had been torn in many places. Obviously, whoever did that hadn't been aiming for the mask.

Jay hesitated, then waved at her.

"Hey Batgirl! Over here."

She jumped, as he thought she would. He grinned and let her assess the situation and classify him as "just a child", then reconsider and upgrade him to "street rat" – so to speak.

"You ain't going far like that in this cold. I've got a blanket and some water, if you like."

She was more a woman than a girl, probably twenty-something. Older than the people he usually let close to himself but hey! She was still a girl. And a Bat. That had to count for something.

She took a decision and came closer. Jay reconsidered his evaluation of her age: she was nineteen at most and looked lost. Not from the streets, however badass. He opened the window as big as he could. She was just slender enough to slip inside.

He could see ten blue bruises flowering around her neck and some more around both her wrists. She wasn't wearing her gloves.

She didn't talk. He didn't ask. (Even – later).

He pointed the plastic tub and water bottles in the corner. She nodded and went, her face blank under her mask. He turned his back on her to give her some privacy and resumed smocking.

After a while he heard a single sob. He crushed his cigarette and removed his jacket, silently. She was kneeling over the tub. He put the jacket on her shoulder, careful not to touch her. She winced but didn't back away. He stayed there, waiting. Some people needed to talk, afterwards.

Not her. Instead, she put her arms into the sleeves and got up.

"You want me to walk you home?" he asked, hoping she'd get that it wasn't about finding out who she was, just about not leaving her alone.

She shook her head.

"No, thank. I'll be alright now."

He didn't insist. She left.

sosososo

The very next day, the kids were playing around in the little court down the squat. The sun was finally showing up and they were happy to jump in the puddles like normal kids. Jason cursed after the noise but didn't really mind and sat there to watch.

A girl passed by then didn't, stopping right in front of him. He glared at her – what did she want, to put her shadow on him? – and was troubled to recognize Jim Gordon's daughter carrying two gigantic bags of groceries.

"Well, baby doll, what are you doing in this neighborhood?" he asked.

She dropped the bags.

"Those are for you. And the kids, of course."

He got up lazily, smirk sharp on his lips.

"What, that' your good deed of the week?"

She glared right back at him, then laughed.

"You're one though cookie, aren't you? Well, see you around!"

He watched leave then looked at the bags. It was food; he wasn't going not to take it just because it had been given out of charity.

He found the jacket later. It wasn't his old one. It wasn't new alright, all soft and a bit worn out at the joints, but it was mostly his size when the other had been at least two sizes too big. It was why he could give it away to Batgirl in the first place.

sosososo

It smelt like her.


	7. Matriarch

**Matriarch**

If Metropolis was a man, he'd be some tall, blond guy with a perfect smile and a show-off watch. Maybe his shoes would be muddy but his suit would be otherwise pristine, and he'd have impeccable middle-class manners.

If Gotham was a woman, she'd be an old whore, once beautiful, but whose make-up wouldn't hide the signs of age and tiredness anymore. Perhaps she'd have some bruises around her wrists, though her earrings might be plated with real gold.

That's what Jason likes about Gotham. When you look at the city, from the streets or from the roofs, you see directly how deeply rotten it is. The old buildings crumbling with age, the streets stinking, the loveliest neighbourhood stained by industrial buildings and gang tags.

If Gotham was a woman, he might kiss her.

(Better not to mention what he'd do to Metropolis.)

Jason jumps from the roof where he's been standing to another, then walks quietly on a pipe. On to the other side of the street, on the wall right above the pipe, there is still a long cut from when some crazy kid jumped from the roof above and used his knife to soften the fall.

Jason smiles under his mask. It's been a while. He doesn't need knives anymore.

Gotham didn't change at all, as expected. He still knows her by heart, like the palm of his hand. He could run over those roofs with his eyes closed.

He climbs the wall to the roof and continues his round over the city. Some shops closed, a few less opened. The old of the old are still there, of course. And even if the gangs ain't entirely identical, the city still gives the same feeling.

Some would despise Gotham for what she is. Jason doesn't. She nurtured him, she made him the man he is now. Without her, he wouldn't have been able to make the right choices, to walk down the right path.

His hand brushes the bricks, like a caress. She stinks, she rots, but she's his, his city. And he missed her. Now, he's finally back. And it's time for some change.

He jumps down, careful not to let the lights reflect the red of his helmet.


	8. The replacement

**The replacement**

Tim's first reaction when he learnt Robin was back in town had been hope. That could only mean Bruce and Dick had made peace and he was going to see them fly together once again. He spent his whole night on Gotham's roofs, searching the sky for the well-known shades.

When he finally managed to spot them, a few weeks later, Tim felt his stomach turn into knows. It _wasn't_ Dick. It was _another boy_.

Who _dared!?_

And yet – yet it definitively was Batman.

_How dare he?_

Tim went back home, disgusted, without taking more than two or three pictures.

Of course, he then started looking into _who_ that might be. He got an answer two days later when Bruce Wayne announced very publicly he was adopting a street kid named Jason Todd. Journalists went crazy for it, women approving of his tender heart while hoping the new child would be easier to pin for their daughters than Dick Grayson. After all, Brucie's fortune could only go to one of them, maybe only Jason, since _he_ was adopted and Dick was _only_ his ward.

Tim didn't like it. At all. It was bad enough that Dick and Bruce fought and that Dick moved _out of Gotham_ where he _couldn't see him at all_. But now, Bruce was actually _replacing_ him? Did he _want_ Dick never to come back?

Maybe he did.

Maybe he felt alone without a Robin?

Tim needed more information.

Hence, he spent his next nights back on the roofs and most of his days browsing forums. Most of them were full of useless fans who wrote fictions about Batman and Robin – seriously! They were _real people_! And nothing would be better than the truth anyway. Tim kept hoping they'd get together someday.

A few were _real _fans though, who either used their eyes or cameras to spot Batman and Robin. Most didn't manage it more than once or twice, which, okay, Tim could get since Batman changed his path every other night or so and they didn't know where it _started_.

They all agreed though: Batman was feeling better since Robin "came back". Fangirls of all ages talked about how he was happy to have his lover back. Which was, like, _gross_ since Todd was only _14_. And wasn't _Dick_.

However, they had a point: thugs' beatings had decreased (or at least, less of them ended up in the hospital and more of them in jail). Tim could also see that Bruce looked like he got less wounded. He took less risks since he got that new Robin.

But _still!_

From what he could gather, Jason Todd was as different from Dick as one could be. His parents were both dead – but one died in prison and the other of overdose. He slipped out of Gotham Children Care System to live in the streets when he was ten. He actually had a _file_ at GCDP – Tim didn't manage to break into it but that meant Todd had been arrested at least once!

And he lived in Gotham's streets. There was no way he had the same sunny smile or light _mood_. Robin – the _real_ one – made people happy just by standing there and grinning.

There was no way Todd would last long. Tim spent more and more of his night on the roofs, watching: he'd be there when he'd screw up.

Then… Well. Jason punched too hard and his pranks were too cruel to be fun, but… sometimes, he let out a _real_ laugh – not mocking, not harsh – and it felt so _good_ to hear it because it meant he was happy to be there, at Batman's side, flying over the city.

And then, Jason was good with kids. He treated them like actual sentient beings and listened to them and protected them.

And he was always there when Batman needed him and Tim _saw_ how Jason _felt_ it when Batman needed him to put a hand on his arm, or just stand closer. And Batman would relax when he did.

At some point, Tim got up in the evening thinking _perhaps I'm going to see Batman and Robin today_ and froze, because, Jason Todd _was_ Robin now and that should feel _wrong_ but somehow _didn't_.

Tim felt like he betrayed Dick. And yet… yet. Yet Dick had chosen himself a new name, and a new city, and maybe it was alright? Tim still missed him horribly – they barely talked at all even when they crossed path in some galas but… Just knowing he was there to look over the city, to look over Batman – and those who thought Batman was the one needing help really didn't get it – and…

But there was someone else for this now, right?

Dick was still amazing, even as Nightwing. No one could be as amazing.

And Jason wasn't Dick, but he was what Batman needed. He was what _Gotham_ needed.

He was _Robin_.

sosososo

_And here was Tim :) He was the one missing._

_He's about 9 or 10 at the time, which explains why his vocabulary isn't quite as elaborated as one would expect from him._

_It was a hard POV to write even though I really like Tim, I hope it doesn't show too much ^^;_

_Note: yes, having Tim call Jason "the replacement" it entirely ironic, of course, since Jason will call Tim _his_ replacement, someday._


	9. Gain

_So, someone asked me how Bruce had reacted to Jason's criticism of his social status in Waste. Incidentally, I wanted my next chapter to be about Kal. I just intended to write down some lines about how Bruce would complain to Kal about Jason's behaviour then… Well._

_I hope you'll enjoy!_

**Gain**

Kal turned from the window and smiled.

"So, Bruce. Why did you ask me to come, exactly?"

Sometimes, that man's arrogance got really annoying, Bruce decided. No one knew what the Batman thought.

That he indeed didn't ask him to come just for small talk was beside the point.

"I'm worried about Robin."

He never called Jason "Robin" and they both knew that. Especially in the manor, with both of them dressed as civilians. Well. Bruce dressed in a nice suit that would fool any journalist who might break down the door and get past Alfred to stumble upon them. Kal wore jeans and an actually fitting shirt and no glasses. Though people wouldn't exactly label him as Superman on sight, they also wouldn't recognize Clark.

Somehow, the manor became the only place besides the Kent's farm where Kal could actually dress like himself.

Which wasn't the point either.

"Robin, mh?"

And of course Kal would notice. Calling him Robin made it official; any other hero would now be worried about whatever happened. Kal, however, wasn't being fooled.

Bruce didn't fight back his sigh.

"He finds high society gala to be a waste of food and money."

Kal waited. How did he always manage to know when Bruce was getting directly to the point and when he wasn't? It was unnerving.

Bruce waited too, just to see if Kal would break the silence. Once, he'd waited for three weeks. Of course, they'd talked about other things in the meantime and both went back to their lives, before Bruce had finally yielded and continued the conversation.

Un-ner-ving.

"He started flirting with a man."

Kal frowned.

"When you say flirting…"

"I mean if they'd been alone, he would have fallen to his knees and opened the man's pants to…"

"Alright, alright!" Kal interrupted him, blushing slightly.

Well, at least, it was easy to embarrass him.

Bruce _looked_ at him, his eyes carrying the weight of disapproval. "This isn't a joke", he didn't say. He didn't have to: embarrassing Kal _was_ easy.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean… But. That kind of flirt?"

Bruce never quite admitted where Jason's record had lain. Perhaps was it time to.

Perhaps not. It was Jason's secret. The kid didn't like Kal, he wouldn't want him to know. Or would want to be there to see his shocked face. Or… Who knew, exactly, what Jason thought?

Certainly not Bruce.

He was so different than Dick.

"Bruce?"

"Jason always was provocative", Bruce said in his professional voice, factual. "I think he wanted to see if he could. And how I would react. Perhaps to see if the man would have dared, too."

"It's not something he can just _do_, Bruce!"

Bruce pursed his lips. Kal didn't have all the relevant information.

Jason would be so mad if he told him.

"It wasn't his intention to make me angry."

"He was trying to provoke a man! That it wasn't into a fight – for once – doesn't make it any less problematic. Jason doesn't seem to manage to behave properly, and…"

"He was a child prostitute."

That broke Kal's monolog off.

"He what!?" But, already, Kal was shaking his head. "Christ, that does explain some of his attitude."

Then he went back to silence. There wasn't much someone like Kal could say after learning something like that. He was horrified, disgusted, a bit pitying perhaps. And he didn't know what to say.

"I don't know how to handle this", Bruce heard himself admit.

"I can't give you any insight", Kal sighed. "As you well know. Me having some ethics doesn't mean I have an instantaneous answer to all ethical problems, Bruce."

Bruce winced. _Touché_.

"I tried to make him understand he should stop doing that. But he doesn't… get why. He wouldn't admit it hurts him."

Putting it into word made Bruce think perhaps Jason did it _because_ it hurt him – but didn't break him. To prove himself he was able to take it.

Perhaps Jason did it hoping the men would push him away. To gain back a little faith in human beings.

He must have looked frustrated because Kal put a hand on his shoulder.

"It would be hard on anybody." Then he frowned and removed his hand. "And you didn't need me to tell you that. If you knew it even before taking him in… I know you were lonely after Dick left, Bruce, but…" Only _Kal_ would dare mentioning Dick to him so casually. "_Why_ did you take him in?"

Bruce drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, twice. Kal winced.

"I mean, he's… _mean_. He's young, I know, he might still change, but…"

"You think I should have let a prostitute child in the streets?"

Kal rolled his eyes.

"Would you please stop being insulting? But you could have sent him to the Martha Wayne foundation, instead."

Fair enough.

"Any kid isn't built to be Robin. You know that. Dick managed to put a smile on your face. Jason is something else entirely, and…"

"He would have become a criminal, had I not taken him in."

"Exactly! That's why I don't understand why you would…"

Kal interrupted himself when he understood Bruce hadn't agreed with him, but merely answered his question.

"_That_ is why?"

"It would have been a waste. Jason is talented."

"There are a _lot_ of talented young men around!"

Bruce shook his head sharply, just once. Why didn't Kal understand they didn't see the same person when they looked at Jason? Kal saw the potential _criminal_. Bruce only saw the _potential_.

And Jason was… a gothamite. He _oozed_ Gotham from every pore. His accent, his attitude, his anger… and yet, he loved the city. He loved it like Dick never had. Oh, Dick had wanted to defend its people! But Dick would have defended anyone. He didn't get why Gotham was important, he would have done the same everywhere.

For Jason, Gotham was important by itself.

Moreover, for a potential criminal, he was quite a natural protector. Jason hated bullies. Even though he found it hard to trust adults, he would have done anything to stop an injustice from happening. And he was great with kids, or anyone he didn't label as either threatening or pitiful.

Alright, maybe it wasn't a _lot_ of people, but…

"Bruce."

Bruce looked at Kal, arching an eyebrow. Kal sighed.

"You do realize you must fit the type of his previous… clients, don't you? As far as 'rich men who can do anything they like' go… He might act like that with you too."

"I wouldn't let him."

Kal nodded. Silence.

"I wasn't telling you to give him away _now_, you know?"

"You were saying he isn't worthy of being Robin."

Kal jumped, offended.

"That isn't what I…"

"That's exactly what you were saying. You don't like him."

Kal crossed his arms on his chest.

"Maybe I don't. But I'm not the one getting to decide, am I? Besides, he _is_ Robin, now."

Which was exactly what Bruce had been saying all along. That didn't escape Kal, who snorted.

"So? What are you going to do with him?"

Bruce relaxed. The answer had been there all along, after all.

"Robin."

sosososo

_Ok so once again, exactly like about Dick… I do love Clark. He's a good man with a good heart at the right place. Now, when Jason was about 14 and starting being Robin, and Dick about 19 having just left, I'd give Bruce perhaps 29 and Clark maybe 25. It's _young_ for someone with so many responsibilities._

_And my Jason, let's be clear, is a pain in the ass. He's even more so with Kal – but perhaps I'll write some other oneshot to show exactly how much those two _don't _get along._

_Please review if you've read anything you like! ;) (or even if you didn't!)_


	10. Mighty Heroes

**Mighty heroes**

Superman. It's not that Jim didn't like the man, but… he really didn't like the man.

Of _course_ Superman saved people, or even cities, or cats from trees. Of course he looked like a good guy – even a nice one. But Jim just couldn't stand the idea of him.

Perhaps it was his gothamite side – or just his cop side – that would be most of him – but _come on_. A superhero with so much power but perfect ethics who would selflessly help people from Earth? It sounded too good to be true.

Moreover, people didn't evolve if someone kept doing what they should do themselves. Some might be inspired by his example, others would just wait for him to save them instead of helping themselves. For example, gothamites.

And finally, Superman wasn't the kind of man who had actual training. Oh, he wasn't _bad_ at it, he thought about what he was doing, he was just – a civilian. And nothing irked cops more than a civilian trying to play the hero.

Thank God, Batman was totally different. No powers, no great display of heroic gestures, no civilian reflexes. He stayed in the dark, working from the shadows, and sure didn't look like an amateur playing with powers bigger than himself.

Jim knew, however, that Batman and Superman got along. He didn't understand that and didn't intend to. As long as Superman stayed away from his city, it was alright with him.

But knowing they were close made him think he also got along with Robin.

How stupid of him.

"I mean, the way he just _looks_ at you like he knew better! And, you know, _frowns_. He isn't _Batman_, he's got nothing to say to me!"

The kid had been ranting for five good minutes. Apparently, he'd went to some JLA meeting with Batman and it didn't went well.

"Seriously, commish', he's all mighty like if he was a freakin' _god_ among us, when he doesn't even _know_ how it is around here! Fuck, he ain't no saint! No one is!"

Ah, gothamites.

"He must be annoying to talk with", Jim admitted out loud.

"You've got no idea", Robin sighed, sitting down at the roof's ledge as if they weren't several floors over the ground. "He's… _judgmental_."

Jim looked at the once skinny, aggressive kid who was now Robin. In the past two years, he'd put on some weight and muscle and learnt some manners, but he still looked and sounded much like the street kid he'd been. Hell, his smirk had only become meaner. From the point of view of most heroes, he probably seemed close to the criminals they fought.

Especially compared to his predecessor.

"You're right", Jim said. "He doesn't know how it is. He isn't from Gotham. I'm sure he isn't the only hero who sounds wrong to you."

Robin twitched a bit.

"He ain't. But he's the worst of them."

"Probably because he has more responsibilities. It's easy for journalist to criticize Superman for anything other heroes do."

Jim once read that very article from the _Daily Planet_ about how people should stop making Superman an icon and hoping Superman would solve all their problems. It had been written by that journalist – Kant?

"He ain't from Gotham!" The kid sounded offended. "No one would _dare_ to blame anyone but Batman about how _I_ behave!"

"Don't forget they're friends. Maybe Superman doesn't want people to blame Batman either."

Robin grumbled.

"I think he's just an ass. Mister perfect, always so full of himself…"

"He doesn't know how it is, but I'm sure he tries to do his best nonetheless. I don't come from the bottom of society either, kid."

"It's not the same for you!" Robin said right away. "You work in the streets, you _get it_."

Jim laughed.

"And you think I got it from the very first day I started as a rookie? No, kid. I had to learn, like everyone else. How old is Superman? He isn't even 30, I'd say. It's still very young. Of course you know more than him about life, but you learnt it the hard way. Give him some time."

Robin gritted his teeth, but conceded the point.

Jim played with the cigarette he'd come to the roof to smoke, still unlit. He didn't like to smoke in front of kids, but he was starting to badly need one.

"Not that I want to defend him, but if he doesn't make the first move, why don't you? If you have to work with him, you should try to have at least cordial relationships with the man."

Robin jumped on his feet, making Jim's heart miss a beat. He _still_ was but a feet away from the ledge.

"_He_ is supposed to be the freakin' boss of the freakin' league!"

Jim raised his eyebrows.

"While you're just a young sidekick?"

Robin closed his first, furious. Jim took the time to light his cigarette and drew a puff.

"It's up to you to prove them you're more than that. Stop waiting for them to notice who you are. Show them. For example, by reaching out to Superman."

Robin frowned. Then nodded, once.

"I hear you."

Jim smiled around his cigarette.

"I knew you would."

Robin smirked and jumped from the roof. Jim looked at him until his shadow disappeared in the night. He wasn't a stupid kid, nor a bad kid. He just needed some guidance.

A strange feeling came to knot Jim's stomach. He shivered. He hoped Robin would talk to Superman soon. He didn't know why, but he felt like there was very little time left to do so.


	11. To take out the trash

**To take out the trash**

Seriously, as if _anyone_ could take the place of _his_ bird. That rat didn't even _smell _like feathers, it moved all _wrong_, worse, it _smiled_ wrong! No, no, no way _this_ was going to be _Robin_.

And yes, he totally gets to vote. After all, without him, there wouldn't be any Batman, right? So Robin is entirely his fault as well – and _his_.

Aw, his Robin… He cried _so_ beautifully, and fought _lovingly_, even when he didn't have a chance (he never did).

And Batman let a rat take his place? Without even _asking him_? _No_.

Thankfully, he was a grown man, he took the matter into his own hands.

Now, no more flying rat, it had been put back where it belongs. With garbage. Or anywhere else than in _his bird_'s colors.

Yes. He had to show the Bat how useless the rat was, and transforming him into garbage was the easiest way to do so. And the best way to transform human being into garbage in the eye of _everyone_ – because it already _was_ garbage to his eyes, oh yes – was to kill it.

Rat killed, no more featherless Robin, no more unnerving smirks, everything was back to its place!

The Joker grinned at the rising smoke from the explosion in the valley below. The trash had been taken out, now, he could go bird-hunting again. He wondered if the 'Haven was as interesting as Gotham…

Or, well. Maybe he'd just go bat-hunting. That kept being his favourite hobby, in the end. Big bird wasn't half as cute as when he'd been 12. Something looked broken in his grin, and _it hadn't been broken by him_. Outrageous.

sosososo

_Hello guys!_

_I caught up with my writing and I must admit I don't have any other idea for the moment, so that's going to be the last chapter for the time being. Don't ask me if there's going to be another because the truth is, I don't know yet ;) If you have ideas or questions, don't hesitate to ask, it might inspire me!_

_FYI, I'm currently working on a more conventional fanfiction, so you'll hear about me again. I must warn you though, the style will be quite different!_

_Thank you for your support!_


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